Today I went and picked up my lawn mower and the guy who repaired it was telling about some possible adjustments. My first thought was that Dad would explaina all this to me. And then like a rocket across a lonely sky, I realized he could not.
So I’m borrowing this truck and the first request to help someone with it is to haul…flowers. #manly
I’ve learned to be content that I am not the sort to read a lot of scripture. But am the sort that reads scripture a lot.
“Dad, can I get you anything?”
“I want a new body.”
This whole experience with my dad and my family and the grief has made me want more than ever to move towards the grieving and dying and hurting.
Blessed are the leaders, the happy-clappy,and the beautiful, for they shall be the marketing material of the American church.
On the day we buried my dad, Patty Griffin’s new album was made available to stream. She wrote it about her dad. While he was dying. And it’s about as beautiful as I could ever imagine.
Over against clever, in spite of all that is cool, let it be beauty.
With courage, my dad told us he was ready to go on ahead. I fear everything else. Even though the King whispers daily, “I’m here.”
Five Guys bacon cheeseburgers with mayo, BBQ sauce, and grilled onions.
Just when you thought it couldn’t get any crazier, my mom called me yesterday to say she heard on the local Christian radio station, “Matt Redman’s father has passed away and we offer our condolences.” Will it ever end?